


natural disasters

by writeyourheart



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Nightmares, just a big mess of emotions really, longer than it needed to be tbh, sort of angst, sort of fluff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 19:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12688752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourheart/pseuds/writeyourheart
Summary: "Her nightmares were often the colours of a hurricane. Metallic grey’s and saturated blues that swarmed through her mind as she slept, fading and dulling the faces she had remembered as bright and vibrant.But there was no vibrancy at nighttime."Three times El wakes from frightening nightmares to the darkness of an empty bedroom, and one time she doesn't.





	natural disasters

**Hurricane**

 

Her nightmares were often the colours of a hurricane. Metallic grey’s and saturated blues that swarmed through her mind as she slept, fading and dulling the faces she had remembered as bright and vibrant.

            But there was no vibrancy at nighttime.

The moonlight that sank in through the creaks of the window drapes in her bedroom created eerie shadows and silver streaks against the walls and ceilings. The soft wind that’d cool her down during day time would find her in the darkness, harsh against the smoothness of her skin, goosebumps making their way across her blanket-wrapped body.

At nighttime, the world was black and white; old and scary and too quiet. It was like the void in her mind, but rather inescapable. 

On good nights, her dreams were tinted with cotton candy skies and the warmth of those she missed. The warmth of her friends.

But good nights came like good days. They rarely ever did.

It was her nightmares that dominated; powerful and possessive of her thoughts. They turned her wishes to terrors, replaying distasteful memories in her head like broken records.

It was Papa, then the baths, then the void, then the Demogorgon. Then her friends; Lucas’ pained expressions and Dustin’s somber face would cry out words she couldn’t understand to her. Will was left cold in the Upside Down, shaking and breathing heavily, as if there were no air left in his small lungs. Joyce would cry and fall to her knees, melting and falling through the floors of her home with shrieks of agony. Hopper would scavenge through forests and hunt through dimensions to get to her. She was there, in front of him, in all her dreams. But in nightmares, he could never seem to see her, as if she were invisible.

But it was Mike’s face that twisted her insides and allowed her heart to throb as if it were going to burst. His skin was tinted grey and his hair was darker than she remembered. His eyes were black; like the void. If she reached out to touch him, her hand would sink through him, as if he were a hologram, or a cloud.

Tonight, she stood by him as he sat in the fort of his dimly lit basement. The scene was black and white, too; like the night.

“El,” he whispered, his lips chapped and his eyes wide and alert. He was wrapped in blankets, and every nerve on his face was lit with terror. “The Demogorgon is back. I know it is. I can hear it.”

El’s own eyes widened, her hands reaching forward to get to him but sinking through his chest at the attempt. Perhaps those were the worst parts of her nightmares; he was so close and he seemed so real but he _wasn’t_. 

“And I don’t think it wants Will this time,” he said, his voice slightly breaking and slow tears escaping his eyes and falling gently down his saturated cheeks. His freckles were grey in her nightmares, but in good dreams, they were like stars. They shined, bright and brilliant like lights on his face; warm against her fingertips. In good dreams, she could touch him. “I think it wants _me_.”

“ _No,_ ” El moaned angrily as the lights of his basement flickered and the room around them would alternate between their world and the Upside Down’s. Kneeling by him now, her hands tried to grasp at his black shirt, or his skinny shoulders, or his dark hair. Her efforts were useless however, each time her hands would fall right through him.

The room grew colder, and thick vines began to appear on Mike’s walls. Her breathing became rushed, and she felt wet tears fall to her cheeks icily.

“Mike.” She said his name as though it ached her; and it did. Her hands still trying to grasp at his body, his name repeating itself on her lips as she noticed that his black and white form began to fade and she watched as he slowly dissolved before her eyes.

“El,” Mike begged, her name sounding bittersweet on his lips as he ached for her, too. “El please, help me. You’ve got to help me, _God_.”

“Mike!” She screamed as his body began to fade even more. He was translucent now; but his voice was booming in her ears.

“El! El! Why aren’t you helping me?” He choked. “You promised. You _promised_!”

“Mike!” She shot upwards in her bed, her pajamas were glued to her body with sweat and her short curls were matted against her forehead. The room was black and white, the moonlight less bright tonight as the shadows on her walls were dimmer. They must be hidden behind the clouds. The door to her bedroom opened quickly, creaking.

“Hey, Kid.” Hoppers voice was soft against her ears, and at the sound of it, she allowed a sob to escape her dry lips. She looked up at him through blurry eyes wet with unshed tears. He looked black and white, too, but when he sat by her bed and wrapped his warm arms around her shaking form, she knew he was real.

“You’re alright,” he whispered against her head, patting her back repetitively. Her body shook in his arms and the sobs didn’t want to go away. “You’re fine, El. Everything is fine.”

She shook her head against where it rested on his shoulder.

“No,” she answered, the word quivering against her mouth. “It’s not fine.”

Hopper pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes were filled with curiosity and the bags underneath them were dark and prominent, even in the darkness of her bedroom.

“What do you mean, El,” he asked. “What’s not fine?”

“Mike,” she answered naturally, his name familiar and soothing against her tongue and the image of him smiling was alive and thriving in her head.

Hoppers face fell, the curiosity in his eyes turning to a slight disappointment and perhaps laced with sadness, too.

“El, you know he’s okay,” Hopper assured, his hand rested steadily against her shoulder and her sobs turned to quiet whimpers. “I told you, I see him pretty often. He’s doing just fine.”

“Lie,” El muttered, the whimpers disappearing and a slight determination replacing them.

“What?” Hopper’s eyebrows raised, his own voice determined and slightly strong. The wind blew through the room, moving her hair and allowing the curls to tickle her neck.

“You’re lying.”

“How am I lying?”

“Because I see him.”

Hopper’s face shifts. His eyes keep their strength, however. El’s do, too.

“Your dreams don’t count, El,” Hopper claims, his voice steady and one hand rubbing against his beard. “Dreams aren’t real.”

“Not through nightmares.” The word ‘nightmares’ fall from her tongue with slight hesitation, yet with strength. These weren’t dreams. Dreams were supposed to be good. “I see him with my mind.”

“Your mind?” Hopper questions, his eyebrows raising.

“Yes.” Eleven’s slim fingers point towards the thin material she uses to wrap around her eyes when allowing herself to see Mike.

Hopper doesn’t seem to understand at first, but he doesn’t ask. Eleven is grateful.

“How long have you been seeing him for?” Is all that falls from his lips, his voice like a silky breeze against the chilly air of her bedroom.

“fifty-three days. But he’s been trying to talk to me for eighty-seven.”

“Eighty-seven?” Hopper practically chuckles. “Well that’s pretty specific.”

“He counted,” El whispers now, a small smile on her lips at the thought of him calling for her every day since she’s left. There’s a sadness to it, too. El knows the somberness of it all, as if it’s chained to her heart. But tonight, her nightmares lead her mind to scavenge for the beauty of things, too.

“El,” Hopper’s whispering again now, his hands back on her shoulders, guiding her back down to the mattress. She’s reluctant to allow herself to move back, but the softness of the bed is so lulling and her eyelids are already so heavy. Every time they close, she sees Mike’s smiling face. “I promise you’ll see him again. One day.”

“When?” She asks, the word quiet and mispronounced with lack of effort.

“Soon.” She falls asleep to the word in her ears. It’s a dreamless rest, for once. No black and white nightmares, no cotton candy dreams. Just the darkness.

Soon, she decides, is her favourite word of the week.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  **Forest Fire**

 

They’re in the school gym this time. And they’re not alone.

            There’s a girl with them. And though everything else was colourless, the girl’s hair was vibrant. Orange, fiery locks fell down her back with ease, and El watched as Mike brushed his fingers through them in awe.

            El felt her face heat up, and anger rose up her spine, electrocuting her skin and clenching her fists. Her nails dug into her palm, but she couldn’t feel their sharpness. All she could feel was the burning furiousness in the pit of her stomach, her heart throbbing with a foreign ache. _Jealousy._ She had learnt the word weeks ago, after her and Hopper had watched _Cinderella._

“Sheesh, those step sisters are crazy,” Hopper muttered, his hand lazily grasping a beer as El sat by him on the couch. “Crazy, and jealous.”

            “Jealous?” She asked, voice high and eyes flooded with question. Hopper’s mouth twitched before he spoke, thinking of the right words to say.

            “J-e-a-l-o-u-s,” Hopper spelled aloud. “It means they’re angry, or sad maybe, because she’s prettier than them. Or ‘cause she gets to have what they want, but can’t have.”

            “Oh,” El whispered quietly. She understood, but not really. She took the dictionary that night, scavenging through the flimsy pages to find definitions.

            Afterwards, she went over to Hopper. He was doing the dishes, music playing quietly in the background as he hummed to the melodies with ease.

            “I am jealous,” El stated, her hands across her chest and her eyes staring at Hop with a strength that was laced with melancholy.

            “Jealous?” He repeated her words, his eyebrows raised and his face towards her, yet his hands still scrubbed at the dishes. “Jealous of what, Kid?”

            _Of everything_. It’s what she wanted to say. It was how it felt. The continuous swirl of jealousy spun in her chest as she thought of all the things other kids had that she didn’t. They had homes, and families, and toys. They got to go to school with other kids, make friends, explore the world. They never lived in labs, or were forced into baths that swallowed them hole and sent them to dimensions in their heads. They couldn’t control things with their minds.

            She was jealous of them; of kids like Mike and Lucas and Dustin. And hell, maybe even Will too, despite his own challenges in the Upside Down. She couldn’t help but feel like he had it better, even if he didn’t. He had his childhood, once. El’s never existed. Her childhood was gone before she was ever even born.

            “Nothing,” El lied, the word stung her tongue as they slipped from her mouth. _Friends don’t lie._ “Just trying out how it sounds.” When she left towards her room, she knew Hopper was staring at her. She knew that he realized she was lying. And she knew that she didn’t have to explain her jealousy to him, either. He knew that, too.

            And though she knew her jealousy rather well, this jealousy was new, yet just as strong.

            “Your hair.” Mike’s words echoed throughout the gymnasium, ringing in her ears and turning her blood cold. “It’s so long.”

            El’s hands moved to her head, a frozen finger twirling one her short and frizzy curls. It was a small gesture, but it was one made of insecurity.

            Mike’s hands began to move upwards, his grey fingers gently moving from the girl’s hair to her saturated face. His fingers stroked her cheekbones lightly, and with each caress, El felt sharp, needle-like, pains on her own cheekbone.

He couldn’t see her. She was invisible in almost all her nightmares. But she was always apart of them; always causing pain and destruction to everyone else.

“El’s hair wasn’t like this at all,” Mike chuckled, but it was dark and heated; a guttural noise from his throat. “She didn’t really have hair at all.”

The redhead’s eyebrows raised in slight disbelief, but perhaps in amusement as well.

“Yikes,” she giggled. It was guttural too, but laced with a sweetness that was almost sour. “Sounds pretty ugly.”

El’s fists tightened, but she felt unshed tears begin to form. She moved towards where they sat on the floor, cross legged and facing each other. Crouching, she moved her hands forward, attempting to push the girl downwards. To her surprise, she did, her back hitting the gymnasium floor with an echoing thud, booming within El’s head.

She thought she couldn’t touch people in nightmares. Perhaps the people she wanted to touch were the only one she couldn’t.

El’s eyebrows rose in shock, her arms loose at her sides, and within thin air, Mike disappeared, and it was just El and the girl.

El watched as the girl moved upwards, begging to stand. The gym began to fade, becoming replaced with nothing but a piercing darkness. The void.

When they made eye contact, she noticed the blue of the girl’s eyes were an icy blue, as cold as the blood that ran through El’s veins. But her hair was different. It was bright; brighter than usual. She wasn’t black and white anymore.

El’s eyes grew as she watched her orange strands of hair turn to burning flames, the colour vibrant and intimidating as the flames encircled her body, her face set and her eyes deadly.

When El wandered through her own mind, trying to reach her powers to stop the girl from setting everything on fire with the flames on her head, she found nothing but emptiness. Her abilities weren’t working.

“Mine.” The girl’s voice was deep and monstrous, nothing like the sweetness it had been only moments ago. “He’s mine. Do you understand? He’s mine, now.”

“No,” El said, her own voice strong and determined. Her dark eyes were set and she stood tall facing the girl in front of her. “ _No_.”

The girl’s angry frown turned to a sly, mischievous smirk. El’s insides grew colder. Her hair flickered; the flames on her head began to grow and take over the void. Despite the burning fire that surrounded her; El felt as though she were made of ice.

When she awoke, her body did not move. She stayed pressed against the bed, her breathing heavy and her thick blankets securely wrapped around her.

_It wasn’t real._ For the most part. She had seen Mike with the redheaded girl earlier in the day, but her hair did not turn to flames, and his hands were not resting against her cheeks. Still, she was so _jealous_.

She wished Mike were here, next to her. He didn’t have to say anything, he just had to be there; warm and comforting and existent somewhere other than her head. Lately, all of her wishes were made up of him

Opening her eyes, she took in her surroundings. The room was black and white, streaks of moonlight flickering against her ceiling. El watched as they moved, swaying and disappearing and turning the night silver.

This was the first time El was glad she wasn’t awoken to the orange and yellow, flame-like colours of the burning sun.

This was the first time El’s nightmares were made of forest fires. 

 

* * *

 

 

**Icy Tsunami**

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mike hissed. He was in her room; tall and lanky and a mop of dark, untamed hair on his head. His eyes were wide, his mouth open and his eyebrows furrowed. His freckles were grey; like the rest of him. Saturated.

“Mike,” was all she could manage. They stood, the both of them in the room Kali had arranged for her. He was only inches away from where she stood, his eyes bright and bold even through the colourlessness of her nightmares.

“Why are you here?” He demanded, his voice quiet, as if to avoid having someone overhear him. “Why aren’t you back home?”

 “I have to be here,” she retorted, her words desperate. He needed to understand her. “For Mama. For myself.”

Mike shook his head, chuckling with agitation. He swayed his arms when he moved, pacing around the room. El’s eyes twisted and turned to keep up with where his body lead him. He was nervous and stressed and El wanted to hold him down in her arms; to latch onto him and not let go, to feel his warmth radiate through her own body. But this was a nightmare. There was no warmth in nightmares. Even when the redheaded girl’s hair had turned to flames, she was cold.

“No, no, no, no, El,” he stammered quietly, still circling around the room with distress. “You have to go home. This isn’t where you’re supposed to be, okay?” His words were rushed and flooded with worry that allowed an eerie discomfort to grow within Eleven’s chest.

“Mama lead me here, Mike. She wanted me to be here. This is where I’m supposed to-”

“No!” He cried, his voice no longer quiet, his body in front of hers again. He was so close. She could feel his breath against her mouth. Cold. She shivered. “You’re supposed to be _home_.”

“This is my home.” The words were foreign on her lips. They felt misplaced and unfamiliar; as if they didn’t belong on her tongue.

Mike’s eyes softened, and he stared at her with a bitter-sweetness she could barely recognize. But he was staring at her. He could see her. _He could see her_. In nightmares, he never could. Was this a dream? It couldn’t be. The room was black and white and the freckles on his face were not made of brightly lit stars.

“El.” Her name was silky on his lips, soft and velvety. “Hawkins is your home.”

Tears fell from her cheeks. She wondered when they got there.

“Hopper’s your home,” he continued gently, his words delicate and his eyes piercingly dark. “Dustin is your home. Lucas is your home. Will is your home. Joyce is your home.”

“And you?” She spoke the words timidly, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. Was she black and white, too? Looking down at her hands; she realized she wasn’t.

“I’m your home, too, El.” And all she wanted was his hands on her face, on her back, on her arms, on her hair. She just wanted to feel him. She didn’t want him to disintegrate within her fingertips. She wanted him. She wanted her home.

“Mike,” his name was choked from a sob that escaped her lips. She watched as tears fell down his own cheeks. They used to be rounder, less defined. But over the year, she’s noticed a sharpness and a hollowness that replaced the soft plumpness. She wanted to feel his edges. She was sure they were just as soft as the rest of him.

Her arms moved forward, her tanned hand seeking for his saturated cheek. She hovered over his face, afraid that if she’d touch him, he’d fade away like he did in every other nightmare. She didn’t want to say goodbye. Not again. Even within nightmares, it was impossible to let him go.

            “What’re you waiting for?” He asked, his dark eyebrows furrowing once more. “Touch me, El.”

            And so, she did. And it burned.

His skin burned against her fingertips and she almost flinched away. But his strong hand grasped hers, keeping it against his hollow cheek.

“Don’t let me go, El,” he begged her loudly. He sounded different. His words were laced with madness and his voice was cracking.

“Mike,” She whimpered at the pain. Her hand burned. But not from heat. Her hand burned at how _cold_ his skin was. The burning sensation was rather the sting of a hand being placed against ice. “Let me go. Please.”

She tried to release herself from his iron grip, but she couldn’t. He was stronger than her. His tears were still there, but they stuck to his face, turning to clear, translucent ice. His skin was turning from grey to and icy blue, and El’s hand was stinging _so much_.

Groaning loudly, she pushed him away from her with her mind. He flew backwards quickly, moving like a puppet. El watched as his icy body shattered against the wall into millions of crystal-like shards.

_Oh my God_. Had she killed him? A groan made its way out of her lips as she moved towards the shattered pieces of his body. El’s heart stopped beating; shattering within her chest and cutting through her organs. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, she think of anything other than Mike’s vibrant face.

“ _Mike!_ ” Her eyes flew open, and the first sob wrecked her body. _Nightmare. Nightmare. Nightmare. Nightmare._ She repeated the word within her head like a mantra, beginning to whisper them aloud at the realization that her attempts were practically useless. Her heart was thumping, and she was breathing ragged, loud breaths. But her heart was still beating, and she was still breathing, too. But his face was still the only thing on her mind.

And so, rather than pushing the thoughts of him away, she allowed them to flood her. She drowned in the thought of him; his laugh, his smile, his starry freckles and dark, wild hair. She allowed herself to be consumed by the memory of him. His arms around her shoulders. His warm hands within hers. His warm lips brushing her pink ones.

And though the thoughts of Mike were warm; her nightmares were still cold.

And so, she drowned furthermore in an icy tsunami.

 

* * *

 

 

**Constellations**

When El woke up, she was faced with a moonlit ceiling that wasn’t hers. She recognized it instantly however. She was at the Byers’ house. A small smirk grew on her lips. Though dazed, she remembered. She had closed to gate. _It was over_.

Inhaling sharply, she filled her lungs with cold, winter air that smelled and tasted of firewood. She was home.

“Home,” she whispered aloud, the word sweet and silky on her tongue. It felt right to say it when she was here, in Hawkins.

“El?” A small voice spoke her name with slight urgency and heavy softness. Her body shifted, turning her head to the left. Her eyes widened at the sight of Mike seated upright in the chair by the bed she was rested in.

“Mike,” she whispered his name, barely audible to her own ears. But he caught on. His lips tugged upwards in a wide, beaming smile. “Mike.”

She moved her fingers out towards him, but winced. A sharp pain made its way through her arm and to her chest.

“Don’t move. You’re drained, El. You need to get your energy back,” Mike soothed, falling to his knees at her bedside, his elbows against her mattress as his hands clasped hers. She gasped at the contact, and his eyes widened at the soft noise that escaped her lips.

“You’re warm,” she cooed quietly, her eyes resting on Mike’s silvery moonlit form. He was black and white again. But this wasn’t a nightmare. He was beaming, and warm, and when he touched her she turned to mush. “You’re really here.”

Mike’s eyes were tender, crinkling slightly at the sides when he smiled. She felt herself melt as one of his hands softly found its way through her slicked back hair. She was still in the same clothes she had been in to close the gate, but without the jacket. Her face was clean now, though. Hopper must’ve wiped off the blood as she slept.

            “Yeah, I’m here,” he assured, nodding repetitively, as if needing to assure himself, too. “And you’re here.”

            “Yes,” she said smoothly. “I am here.”

            “I thought I was never going to see you again,” he mumbled, his head hanging downward, though his eyes still lingering over her face. “I mean, I knew you were still out there. Well, obviously; if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have called you for three hundred and fifty-three days. But I was still scared, y’know.”

            She did know.

            “I was scared, too,” she admitted, a single tear falling down her cheek. Mike’s finger was quick to catch it, moving from her hair to her soft cheek. He left it there, stroking her cheekbones with a gentleness she sank into. “You were in all of my nightmares.”

            Mike’s eyes widened, staring into hers as if he could hand her his heart with just a look.

            “You were in all of mine, too.” El’s tears continued, and Mike’s own tears began to fall freely down his cheeks. They weren’t icy this time. “They were so scary, El. I didn’t want to sleep anymore. I knew they were coming.”

            She did, too. But sleep was inescapable. Through his tears, Eleven watched him smile.

            “But you were in my dreams, too,” he whispered in a velvety voice, and El found herself flying through a crisp, ocean coloured sky. “I’d be able to touch you in those. Hold you and never let go until I had to wake up.” He paused for a moment, his mind searching for more words.

            “Maybe the dreams were worse,” he decided, both of his hands on either side of her face as El held them there, her own palms on top his. “Because at least I’d _want_ to wake up from the nightmares. But I never wanted to wake up from the dreams.”

            She understood his words before they were fully out of his mouth, but he continued anyway. She let him.

            “Whenever I did, and you weren’t there, next to me, or in my arms, I remembered you weren’t with me at all.” His voice cracked, and El reached up to wipe a tear from his sharp cheekbones, ignoring the pain that shot through her left arm. He was so warm.

            “Me too,” was all she said. But he understood. He was Mike, and Mike always understood. “But we’re together now.”

            Mike’s smile grew, but the tears continued to fall on both of their faces.

            “Yeah, we are,” Mike reassured himself, and El studied the freckles on his smooth skin. In her dreams, they were constellations; bright, silver stars. She ran her fingers across them, the warmth of his skin radiating through her body. _They’re together now_. “And we’ll stay together. We won’t ever have to feel that way again.”

            “Promise?” She knew the answer already, but she wanted to hear his voice again, even if he uttered one simple word. It was her favourite one.

            He leaned his cheek into her touch, and she sank her face further into his palms. He was here, warm and within her grasp. At the realization, her nightmares seemed to fade; dissolving into the air as though she had never faced them at all. For now, at least, they were nonexistent. All that mattered was Mike, here, within her reach and warm against her hand. Her chin arched forward slightly, awaiting his reassurance.

            “I promise you,” He whispered, moving a hand from one of her cheeks to grab onto hers. He directed it from his freckled nose to his warm, soft lips. Kissing her fingertips, he promised her again. “I can’t lose you again, right?”

            Remembering his words from not long ago, and her own promise to him outside, before closing the gate, she nodded within his palm.

“Right,” she assured. “Promise”

            Tonight, the full moon hung heavily like a streetlamp in the sky, and the bright, pale, stars reflected the freckles on Michael Wheeler’s cheeks. And El decided that a black and white night was not as horrible as it used to be.

           

 

**Author's Note:**

> The end of season 2 wrecked me and I needed to get my feelings out somehow. Hope you enjoyed it!


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